


Primadonna Girl.... Yeah

by ClareGuilty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Bodyguard, Bodyguard!Gabe, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader is a Diva, She's also big Horny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-18 18:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClareGuilty/pseuds/ClareGuilty
Summary: Gabriel Reyes has been hired as your full-time bodyguard, much to your annoyance. Even worse, he refuses to let you sleep with a handsome cowboy you pick up at the bar -- who just so happens to be his ex-boyfriend... oh, and perhaps a mercenary hired to destroy your reputation.Rating may change, Tags will update as story progresses





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my longfic bullshit! This is like a spiritual sequel to "Mavericks" I guess lol  
Thanks to Stella for reminding me to put in all of my hyphens and also letting me scream about how much I love these characters!
> 
> I hope y'all like this one!

“You come here often?” asked the cheap jacket and cowboy hat that had offered to buy you a drink.

“Often enough,” you shrugged. “The music isn’t too loud or too bad, the liquor is nice, and the bouncer usually keeps out the worst of the trouble.” 

The club was more of a VIP lounge than anything else, which suited you just fine. If you had wanted a crowd of rabble and booze you would have gone somewhere else. This man certainly looked as though he belonged somewhere else.

His dress boots were scuffed. It wasn’t an unforgivable sin, but his appearance painted a clear enough picture for you to discern just how many sins he was acquainted with. You swirled the ice in your cocktail and shamelessly raked your eyes over this mysterious stranger.

He was just over six foot and clearly well-built. Shaggy brown hair framed his face under the brim of his dark felt stetson, and you found you weren’t put off by the dusting of stubble that lined his jaw. He was the exact opposite of the clean-cut, metropolitan men you usually hooked up with.

Warm brown eyes peered at you over the rim of his whiskey glass, and you winked as you took a sip from your own fruity such and such that would get you _just_ tipsy enough to ignore the strong smell of cheap cologne as you took this man to bed in the next hour or so. You wondered if his place was filthy. You were going to sleep with him anyway -- you just hoped he was somewhat neat.

He was cute. You had to give him that. A few years older than you and ruggedly handsome but with a sort of puppyish charm that had you accepting his offer of a drink. You were more than capable of paying for yourself, but you didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

You tried to ignore the wrinkles in his shirt and the dusty smudges on his jacket. It was much more interesting to look at the broadness of his shoulders and chest. He didn’t get a body like that from sitting behind a desk moving money around. Maybe he was former military?

You didn’t get the chance to ask before your drinking buddy made inquiries of his own. He was friendly but nosy. You knew the drill. He got your name, your age, your favorite restaurant, and maybe your hometown before you decided it was time to move things to his shitty apartment and make this whole night worth it.

“I like your dress.” The lone ranger surprised you. “It looks nice on you.” The compliment was kind and genuine. He didn’t stare too long at your cleavage or follow up with some throwaway line about how it would look better on his floor. You gave an authentic smile and brushed your hands over your skirts. 

“Thank you,” you blushed and scraped your teeth over your bottom lip. Despite his wrinkled clothes and scuffed boots and cheap cologne, the cowboy seemed to have a good eye. The dress was pale pink satin, soft and breezy for the warm season with a ribbon bow at the waist. It wasn’t your usual low-cut, skin-tight ensemble, and the flattery meant a lot to you. 

A large, stormy presence materialized behind you and you grimaced. Now was _not_ the time.

“You need to leave,” a low, gruff voice demanded. You sighed and glared up at the ceiling. A projector above the bar was splashing delicate neon patterns into the dark haze above your head.

“Gabe,” you said, still avoiding eye contact with your unfortunate date, “I’m fine.”

The larger man snorted with disbelief and retrained his fury on the cowboy. You finally afforded him a glance and were surprised to find that he didn’t seem all that perturbed by your terrifying bodyguard.

“Leave. Now. Or I will remove you.” Gabe stepped forward, placing himself between you and the only chance you had at getting laid for the night.

“Really, Reyes?” The cowboy scoffed and shook his head. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

You blinked in surprise. Old friend?

“Wait wait wait,” you threw yourself around Gabe, trying to insert yourself back into the conversation. “You two know each other?”

Gabe pushed you back into your seat. “We used to work together,” he said -- just as the cowboy said, “We used to date.”

“You used to _what_?!” you exclaimed, pressing against Gabe’s arm and trying to get closer to this strange man who was suddenly the most interesting person you had ever met.

“We’re leaving,” Gabe growled. He grabbed your purse off the bar and dragged you towards the exit.

“Wait! What’s your name?” you called to the man at the bar.

“Jesse McCree!” He responded just as you were pulled through the door.

* * *

“I cannot _believe_ you would cockblock me like that!” you shrieked as Gabe practically tossed you into the car.

“That man is dangerous. Trust me when I say you want nothing to do with him.”

“Oh, so _you_ get to sleep with the cute cowboy, but when I wanna get dicked down he’s ‘dangerous’ and I ‘want nothing to do with him.’” You slumped down in your seat, pouting and huffing without any shred of dignity.

“We used to work together,” Gabe said coolly. Even when you wanted to piss him off he never got angry. “We were in the same black ops unit. He left to do mercenary work long before I started in security. The only reason he found you at that bar is because someone paid him to.”

“You’re just paranoid,” you said. Gabe was probably right though. He usually was with these things. ‘Jesse McCree’ was sketchy enough even before you learned he used to work as a mercenary, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t sleep with him.

“He waited until I went to the restroom before approaching you. He knew I was there, but he only started talking to you after I had turned my back.” Gabe threw the car in drive and quickly eased onto the highway. A sharp glare from him finally convinced you to fasten your seatbelt.

It was another good point. You knew Gabe was incredibly competent. He had a way of scaring off sleazebags before you even knew they were in the building. 

“Is that his real name?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“How long ago did you date? How long were you two together?”

Gabe was silent. You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips. “This is important information,” you said. “How else will I be able to protect myself from him if I don’t have all the facts?”

There was still no response from the driver's seat.

* * *

You turned to Gabe just outside the door to your suite. “You need to go somewhere else for a while.”

He furrowed his brows. “I understand that you’re upset with me, but you have to trust that I was only trying to protect you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved your hand. “I get that, but I had _plans_ tonight, and, seeing that I’m currently without a cowboy, I’m going to have to be taking care of _everything_ myself.” 

Gabe took a step back as he realized what you were saying.

“I’ll message you in a bit.” You keyed open the ostentatious double doors and all but stomped inside.

Gabe stood dumbstruck in the hall for a few seconds before turning and heading to the lounge by the elevators.

You were spoiled and carefree, used to doing whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. Gabe knew that years ago when he started working for your father. He just hadn’t realized how much of a pain you would be when he took the position as your full-time bodyguard. He could handle all of the threats and the intimidation and the legwork without any trouble. You, on the other hand, were one of the most difficult obstacles he had ever faced.

Unbeknownst to you, a political group had headed an attempt on your life several years ago. Your father, the head of a trillion-dollar company, had approached Gabe with the offer of being your full-time bodyguard. The pay was good, and it was one step closer to as safe of a retirement as a man like Gabriel could afford. 

You had never been under constant security supervision before Gabe came along, and you made it clear you were unhappy being saddled with a babysitter, even if your babysitter was the ex-commander of a black ops division. You had thrown temper tantrums, tried to ditch him. Fled city, state, and country in an attempt to return to the breezy and carefree life you were living before.

It had taken nearly a year for you to cooperate. Gabriel had never anticipated having to track you as though you were an internationally wanted fugitive, but once he finally managed to locate you gallivanting around on a Carribean beach, you realized you were stuck with him.

Things were a bit easier between you now. Gabe drove you places, checked your packages, screened anyone you came into contact with who looked like a threat. You didn’t put up too much of a fight or try and give him the slip once a week. He could be useful to have around. He scared off creeps and carried things for you and occasionally ate your leftovers or shared his dessert. He usually didn’t cockblock you and was always there to escort you home so you never had to make the walk of shame. 

It wasn’t what he would call easy work, but it was usually low stakes. Your father paid well, and Gabe didn’t have any other obligations, which meant working 24/7 wasn’t a problem. He just hadn’t realized how fucking _absurd_ it would be sometimes.

Because now he sat in the luxurious sitting room on the top floor of one of the nicest hotels in the city waiting for you to finish getting yourself off. 

Privacy was one of the things that had taken a while to truly hammer out. Though you were pretty much one of the most shameless women Gabe had ever met, you still demanded that Gabe keep his distance and disappear when necessary. He couldn’t follow you into the apartments of the various men that you slept with -- not that he wanted to. He had to keep his distance when you were out with friends. It was a strange system of rules that managed to keep you from throwing a tantrum and running away to Spain or something.

This felt… different. Wrong. You had thrown him out before, not ashamed to let him know when you needed “girl time”, but now Gabe felt he knew too much. He knew more than you if anything.

He knew Jesse McCree.

You were fantasizing about his ex-boyfriend and the thought made Gabe’s stomach turn. Jesse was nothing but trouble. He had deserted the black ops team and dropped off the map for a year or so until Olivia found out he was doing mercenary work. Gabe had kept tabs on him, telling himself it was more about his work in security than it was about personal interest.

You couldn’t give a shit about any of that. Jesse was hot, even more handsome after a few years out of the military, and you had made it perfectly clear that you wanted him to fuck you.

Gabe didn’t have it in him to fault you for that. Jesse was tender, loving, always too sweet for his own good. He never left his partner unsatisfied, and he had a surprising amount of stamina.

Not that you knew any of that. You didn’t know how Jesse’s voice sounded right when he woke up, impossibly low and nearly incomprehensible with that goddamn accent. You didn’t know that his neck and ears were too sensitive for his own good, or that he liked to whisper a combination of very romantic and very dirty things in Gabe’s ear as he rode him.

Fuck.

He was a threat. Not sent to kill you -- he wouldn’t have shown himself at the bar otherwise -- but someone had hired him to find you, to steal information or plant evidence or ruin your reputation.

Gabe couldn’t let that happen. First of all, it was his job. He was paid to drag you out of the path of danger no matter how much you screamed and cried and kicked.

Beyond that, though, he cared for you. Yeah, you were a spoiled selfish brat who had never worked hard a day in her life. But you were also funny and charming and strong and not afraid to fuck off and do your own thing. Gabe had never thought he would even like you, especially not after you made him chase you across the country. Now, he realized that he would do anything to protect you, even if it meant hurting Jesse.

* * *

You closed the door of your suite and immediately began undressing. Left shoe. Right shoe. Dress. Bra. Panties. Bam. Mission accomplished.

You dug your vibrator out of your bedside table and flopped back onto the bed -- a California king with the nicest linens money could buy. 

God, _fuck_ Gabe for ruining your night like that. The cowboy was hot, even if he was a mercenary hired to spy on you. He had big hands and you imagined what they would feel like running over your skin, pressing you into the mattress, pulling your hair and slapping your ass. You figured the cowboy was into stuff like that. You were sick of taking home vanilla businessmen and B-list celebrities that tried to be kinky but wound up sounding like poorly written porn doms. 

Jesse McCree seemed like he would treat you right. He was probably an ass man, but you knew he would appreciate your tits. Built the way he was, he was probably strong enough to manhandle you and just throw you around. You wanted rough. You wanted nasty. Jesse McCree would fuck you hard and make you say thank you. 

Your vibrator was a poor substitute for the real thing, especially when you knew Jesse had to have a big dick. Maybe you could ask Gabe how big it was.

Your mind had wandered before you could catch yourself. You remembered Gabe’s arms around you as he dragged you to the car, his expression as he warned you that McCree was nothing but trouble. Suddenly the object of your fantasy had shifted and you were being pressed down into the bed by none other than the man who had put you in this situation to begin with.

No. You could not get off thinking about _Gabriel Reyes_. He worked for you. He was your bodyguard. Sure, he was handsome and strong and you really appreciated his dry humor, but you had declared years ago that you would not seduce the man your father had hired to protect you.

Besides, Gabe wouldn’t even consider sleeping with you. He was a professional. He wouldn’t break your father’s trust. He wouldn’t bend you over and punish you for being such a brat. He wouldn’t fuck you hard and tell you how much of a slut you were.

Gabe had seen you naked before. It was inevitable considering your tendency to get black-out drunk and then need assistance getting undressed. He had never done anything improper, but it meant that you knew how if felt when his finger brushed over your skin, however chaste it was.

You had never seen Gabe naked. You had never seen Gabe in anything less than a t-shirt and jeans, and that was on the rare occasions he wasn’t in a suit. His body was a mystery to you. You knew he was strong, knew he had the body of someone who had trained for years. You would have said that it wasn’t fair, but you were the one who took too many party drugs.

Jesse McCree knew what Gabe’s body looked like. Jesse McCree knew Gabe in ways you never would. 

You came, more confused than anything. You had never gotten off to the thought of two men before. Even worse, you had to face one of those men as soon as you got cleaned up. Stomping into the restroom, you did your best to look presentable before you messaged Gabe.

He knocked not even a minute later, and you opened the door on your way to pour yourself a glass of juice.

“Want anything?” you asked.

“I’m good.”

You turned to find Gabe staring at your very obvious trail of breadcrumbs from the door to the bed. You had forgotten to pick up your clothes.

“Sorry about that.” You rushed to grab the discarded items, disappearing into the closet for a moment before returning to your juice.

You curled up on the couch, Gabe in his usual chair at your dining table. Things were quiet for a minute.

“How much longer are you going to be up?” Gabe asked. He wasn’t trying to rush you to bed, but he also totally was. 

“Just a few more minutes.”

Gabe was quiet -- he was always quiet. You glanced at him and saw that he was glaring at his phone.

“Are you going to tell me anything else about your ex?” you grinned and leaned over the edge of the couch.

“Absolutely not.”

“Even if it’s for my own safety? What if he covers his face and I have to identify him by his dick?”

Gabe looked up at you disappointedly.

“I’m just saying,” you shrugged. “It could happen.”

Gabe went back to glaring at his phone.

“Alright,” you put away your empty glass. “If you’re going to withhold vital information from me about this ‘dangerous mercenary,’ I’m gonna go to bed.”

Gabe was already moving to his own room, a separate wing on the other side of the suite. You scoffed and got ready for bed.

The doors to Gabe’s room closed and he dragged his fingers down his face. Work was easier when he could just shoot things to make them go away. He loosened his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. He could get a few solid hours of sleep at least; you wouldn’t be up until late in the morning at best.

Gabe’s room was more luxurious than anything he had ever imagined for himself, and it still paled in comparison to your suite. He had a king-sized bed that had actually really helped with all of the pain he had acquired in the military. There were a couch and a desk and a flatscreen -- none of which he used. The bathroom had a ridiculously fancy shower as well as a tub. None of this stuff even came out of his pay, it was just standard fare in accordance with following you everywhere. 

Even with a room the size of a small house, Gabe still lived out of two suitcases. You rarely stayed anywhere longer than a few months, and in the few years he had known you, you had taken several spontaneous trips. He just didn’t see the point in settling down anywhere.

Longing for his retirement, Gabe washed up and crawled into the bed that was nicer than he felt he deserved. He dreamed of Jesse McCree and hated himself for it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Stella for being amazing!
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter because I'm very much in love with this fic! Please let me know what you think!

The sound of someone moving around your suite woke you up way earlier than was acceptable. You blinked a few times and saw Gabe in the other room buttoning his jacket. Groaning, you pulled the blanket up to block out the sunlight and went back to sleep.

You finally emerged from the bathroom later that morning -- well, midday really -- to find Gabe sitting in his usual spot. His coffee mug was half empty and you were certain he had already had at least one before that. He barely even glanced up from his tablet as you sat across from him.

“I already called down for your food,” he said. “It should be up any minute.”

You thanked him and rested your head on your arms on the table. Today was going to be slow, that was certain.

"You know, you don't have to wear a suit all the time. I wouldn't care if you wore regular clothes."

"I can't hide a gun in regular clothes."

"Oh." 

You guessed that you knew Gabe carried a gun, but you'd never had to think about it before. The most violent he had ever been with someone was throwing some drunk creep out of a bar one time who had slipped something in your friend's drink.

"Besides," you glanced up to see Gabe smiling, "I look really good in a suit."

"That you do," you let your head fall back into the crook of your elbow and tried to think of anything other than last night.

The door chimed and you waved for Gabe to answer it. He made a noise of deniable dissatisfaction, and his chair scraped across the floor. A few footsteps and the door swung open.

“Here you are, sir.” There was the squeaking of wheels as he pushed the cart of food inside. “There was also a delivery left at the desk this morning, a rather sweet gift, if you ask me.”

You looked up. Who had brought you a gift? You certainly weren’t expecting anything. Gabe stepped aside as you came over to see for yourself. You glanced at the breakfast cart. He had picked well: egg white omelette, yogurt with fruit and granola, and juice. You were glad that he knew you well enough to pick foods you liked.

The attendant handed you a sparkly white gift bag with pink tulle sticking out of it. You grabbed it and tugged on the ribbon tying the handles together. Gabe plucked the bag from your hands before you could stick your face inside.

“Did you check it downstairs? Who delivered it?” He was looking for a card, hefting the bag gently, trying to discern its contents. It was harmlessly light and you reached for it only to have Gabe lift it out of your reach.

The attendant shook his head. “It was a man, seemed nice enough. He said you would know it was from him. Nothing looked too strange to us.”

You waved your hand. “I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you for bringing it by.” You pulled the food towards the table, gesturing for Gabe to tip the attendant who grinned widely at the bills and thanked you both before turning back to the elevator.

Gabe turned his back for half a second and you snatched the gift bag, upending the contents onto the table. A stuffed animal, a bag of chocolates, and a silver embossed card. You grabbed the card in one hand and the stuffed animal in the other, squinting suspiciously at the messy handwriting.

_Sugar,_

_I’m sorry you had to leave so early last night. Hopefully I can make it up to you some other time? I saw this bear and couldn’t help but think of you. Take good care of her for me._

_JM_

_P.S. The chocolates are for Gabe. They used to be his favorite. Maybe you can convince him to share._

You grinned to yourself and looked at the stuffed animal, a soft white teddy bear with a pink satin bow, just like the one on your dress last night. You knew you were blushing like a fool, cradling a stuffed toy like you were a child.

Gabe was standing a few feet away, arms crossed and expression somehow grumpier than his usual resting bitchface.

“It didn’t explode,” you shrugged. You carefully set the teddy bear down and grabbed your omelette. It was good, with mushrooms and green onions. Moaning around your fork, you shot Gabe a thumbs up. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he still looked peeved.

He grabbed the card, glare intensifying as he immediately recognized the handwriting. You rolled your eyes. It must have been a really nasty breakup. Maybe you could find Jesse and get him to tell you what happened. He had managed to find where you were staying, which was a little concerning, but surely he wouldn’t try and come anywhere near you while Gabe was around.

There was a metallic click, and Gabe grabbed the teddy bear off the table. You looked up just in time to see Gabe's pocket knife slice through the soft white fur.

"Gabriel!" you shrieked. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Teddy Bundy pulled out a fistful of tufty bear guts. "I have to check for microphones or cameras. You'll have to excuse me for being a little suspicious." Gabe noticed your horrified expression and softened just a little. "If I don't find anything I'll sew it back together and you can keep it."

"Whatever," you pouted.

Gabe emptied the bear of stuffing and carefully inspected every stitch. Even if there was nothing wrong with the bear, he seemed determined to find a reason to get rid of it.

By the time you were done eating and had gotten dressed, Gabe had procured a sewing kit. You watched with rapt fascination as he expertly stitched the bear back together. Had he learned how to sew in the army? Every day you learned something new and unexpected about your mysterious protector.

Gabe tied off the thread and carefully arranged the pink bow. You shot him an unimpressed look as he offered you the newly reassembled bear.

He wiggled it, the arms flopping in a very inviting manner. "She's perfectly safe."

You cracked and snatched the bear out of his hands. "I'm naming her Jessie," you huffed.

Gabe frowned.

You carefully tucked the bear into your pillows before checking your phone.

"What time is my meeting with the stylist?" you asked.

"2:30."

"Thanks."

It was probably not Gabe's job to keep up with your appointments, but he was really good about remembering even the smallest details, so you wound up relying on him for almost everything. You weren’t sure what you would do when he retired. Whoever your father hired to replace him would have a lot to live up to. Gabe knew your preferred breakfast foods for crying out loud. He kept up with your appointments, had great recommendations when you weren’t sure about something. He was funny and personable, but he also never overstepped his boundaries.

“You’re not planning anything, are you?” Gabe asked. He was frowning at you.

“No? Why would I be planning something?” you shot him a confused look. 

“You were looking awfully wistful over there. Don’t even think about trying to sneak off somewhere.”

“Wistful? What am I? Some kind of damsel?” You were taken aback by Gabe’s lack of trust in you. You hadn’t tried to ditch him in over a year now. What would be the point in running away? Gabe was good to have around.

“You even let out a dreamy sigh.”

“Shut up.”

Gabe looked entirely too smug. You grabbed the bag of chocolates that was still sitting next to Jesse’s card and tore it open. “He said these were your favorite, mind if I try some?” Before you could even unwrap one, Gabe had snatched it out of your hands.

“Don’t even think about eating those.”

You blinked at him in disbelief. “They’re individually wrapped. The bag wasn’t tampered with. It would be rude not to share. Give me a fucking chocolate, Gabe.”

“I don’t think you understand how much of a threat Jesse really is.” Gabe looked more frustrated than you had seen him in a while. What an overreaction.

“Even if he is dangerous, I don’t think eating some candy is going to make much of a difference.” You reached for the bag, but Gabe refused to let go of it.

“I’ll buy you a different bag if you want,” he offered.

“But I want those.”

“Quit being childish.”

“Quit being petty. You’re just upset because I wanted to sleep with your ex. That’s no use to waste perfectly good candy.” You looked up at Gabe, hoping that your words would be able to get to him.

“My ex happens to be a killer for hire. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Gabe asked, bewildered.

“It means he’s probably into some kinky shit. Also, he’s a killer for hire that sent me a stuffed animal and sent _you_ chocolates. I think he just misses you and doesn’t know how to say it.”

Gabe threw his hands up in exasperation. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

You finally managed to unwrap one of the chocolates, popping it into your mouth with a satisfied grin. “Mmm, these are good. I can see why they’re your favorite.” The candies were nothing expensive, but they were caramel sweet with a slight bitter edge; they reminded you of someone.

* * *

The office where you were meeting with your stylist was oppressively quiet. Minimalistically decorated, yet somehow obtrusively luxurious, Gabe rolled his eyes as you whispered with the woman at the front desk. The lobby was stark white, and a huge chandelier hung so low that Gabe couldn’t even walk under it -- not to mention that everything was made of glass. Luckily, your stylist emerged before he had to sit on one of the uncomfortable looking cushions that were artfully scattered about.

Your stylist was all faux smiles and plastic enthusiasm. Gabe found them exhausting. He watched with disinterest as you exchanged a non-committal hug and theatrical air kisses. The stylist sauntered away and Gabe reluctantly followed. If you were as unimpressed as him, you did a great job of hiding it. He found himself envious of how quickly you had matched the stylist’s energy. In the elevator you had been disinterestedly looking at your phone; now, you played along as this fop dragged you to another tasteless room.

At least this part was interesting. Of all the ridiculous errands you ran in your life of luxury and recreation, picking out clothes for events was usually more exciting. Gabe enjoyed seeing all of the different dresses and styles, and you always looked amazing.

You were going to a fashion show hosted at a museum. The collection had been inspired by some of the pieces on display, and the designer was partnering with the museum to help promote the arts. You had donated to the museum, and thus received front row seats to the show as well as an invitation to a fancy dinner afterwards where billionaires would drink champagne and pretend to look at the exhibits. You had called it a $10,000 ticket with a side of good press, but Gabe knew your intentions were more charitable than that.

He settled in beside you on a couch that was much more comfortable than it looked. The stylist flitted around with caffeinated delight, wheeling over a rack of garment bags as they exchanged small talk.

“You weren’t very specific this time around so I picked out a few different things just to give you some options. I know you wanted a dress, and nothing too loud,” the stylist was saying.

“Yeah, I need something pretty simple. What do you have in blue?”

The stylist grinned and clapped their hands. “Plenty! Let’s see if any of these work.” He unzipped a bag and pulled out a navy blue gown. You felt the fabric and looked at it for a moment.

“That’s too dark, something a bit brighter,” you said. Gabe nodded in agreement. The gown looked a little too stuffy and sophisticated.

“How about this one?” the stylist asked, pulling out another gown. This one was a sky blue and shiny silk. It looked a little familiar, you must have worn that designer before.

“That one doesn’t look too bad. I’ll try it on.” You and the stylist disappeared behind the dressing curtain, and Gabe waited patiently for you to emerge. You would look great, he was sure of it, but would you pick that dress or try on another?

The stylist scurried out, and a few moments later you pushed the curtain aside and stepped onto the lit platform surrounded by mirrors. The dress was beautiful, sleek, with a slit up the side of the skirt. You twisted and turned in front of the mirror for a few moments and then frowned. Nope. You weren’t satisfied.

“I don’t think I want something floor-length. Do you have anything shorter?” The stylist was already unzipping another garment bag. Gabe didn’t catch much detail other than a swath of royal blue before you and the designer disappeared behind the curtain once more.

You emerged again, this time in a royal blue, knee-length, off the shoulder gown. You turned to grin at Gabe, who smiled back and gave two thumbs up.

“Wait!” the stylist called. “I know just what you need.” They darted out of the room, and you shot Gabe a commiserating look.

“I like that one the best,” he said.

“Me too.” You gave a twirl, the silk shining under the lights.

The stylist appeared beside you, only slightly out of breath. “The dress itself is simple, so you need a statement piece to really bring it together.” You stood still as the stylist carefully slid a silver tiara over your brow.

You glanced in the mirror, looking puzzled for a moment.

“There you are,” the stylist beamed.

“It’s you, _Princesa_,” Gabe said.

You turned to glare at him, but your cheeks flushed immediately. Gabe worried that you looked a little unsteady on your feet -- were you not feeling well?

Turning back to the mirror, you took a steadying breath. You gave one last turn before nodding to the stylist.

“This one’s great. Do you have the suits as well?” you asked. Gabe was so distracted by the way the tiara shined in the lights, he almost didn’t catch what you were saying. A suit? Were you taking someone with you to the event? You hadn’t mentioned anything to Gabe about it. 

“I’ve picked out a few things. Let me run and grab them.”

“Oh,” you called after them, “he needs something he can hide a gun in.”

The stylist’s eyes lit up, as though they had just been invited to be part of something secretive. “Excellent. I’ll be right back.” And they were gone.

“What’s all that about?” Gabe demanded. “Are you getting me a suit?”

“Only if you see something you like,” you shrugged. “I put you down as my guest rather than security detail, that way you can sit with me on the front row. I know how much you like this kind of stuff.”

“You think I like eating bland food in a quiet room full of stuffy bankers?” Gabe raised an eyebrow.

“No, stupid. No one likes that. I meant _fashion_ and _art_. It’s not fair for you to sit in the back with all of the other security guys when you actually like the shows. I put you down as my guest and I want you to look the part.” You huffed. The stylist still hadn’t returned.

“Can you unzip me?” you asked. “I want to change back into my regular clothes.” Gabe dutifully helped you out of your dress, putting it back in the garment bag while you changed back into your normal clothes. He stifled a chuckle as you flopped back onto the couch next to him.

“What’s your problem?” you demanded.

“Nothing,” Gabe raised his hands. You were still wearing the tiara, but Gabe decided against pointing it out to you. It looked cute, and you would probably snap at him just for the sake of it. He had to admit it was quite a look, a tiara with your day clothes.

The stylist returned with another rack. 

“If you don’t mind sir, I have a few different options that you can try, though I’m sure the lady will want a say as well.”

Gabe pushed himself up from the couch. The stylist look horrified as Gabe’s knees popped loudly. Nevertheless, they pulled out a suit jacket made deep blue velvet that looked inky black until it caught the light.

“I don’t usually get to dress men of your build,” the stylist couldn’t help but disrupt the quiet in the room. “Most of my clients either lead much more… sedentary lifestyles -- or they’re starving health nuts that eat nothing but rabbit food.” Gabe raised his eyebrows as the stylist helped him into the jacket, patting him down all over in a gesture that felt far too appreciative.

Gabe glanced in the mirror. It looked nice. There wasn’t much reason to wear conspicuous and loud clothing in any of the work he did, and he couldn’t help but check himself out in something much snazzier than his usual black jacket. If he was being honest with himself, the last time he had dressed for anything truly formal he had worn his military uniform. He wondered what you would think of something like that.

You shrugged non-committally. “It’s okay.”

The stylist clapped their hands once and nodded. “I think we could find something else that really plays to your figure, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want anything that plays to my figure.” Gabe handed the velvet jacket back.

“At least give this a try!” The stylist was pulling Gabe behind the changing curtain. You shot him a thumbs up before he disappeared.

“A waistcoat?” Gabe questioned as he looked himself up and down in the mirror. He felt unnecessarily bulky -- top heavy. His shoulders were too broad and the jacket clung to him in a way that was not quite suffocating.

“I like it,” you said. You were leaning forward on your knees, far too entertained by Gabe’s torture.

“She’s right. It looks great.” The stylist looked proud of themself.

“I really don’t think it’s my style,” Gabe was already pulling at the buttons. He was starting to regret agreeing to this whole dress-up thing. He wasn’t a doll. You probably meant well, but this whole thing seemed ridiculous. What kind of washed up old killer should be parading around in a designer suit?

“Well, it should be!” The stylist said. You waved him off.

“Let me look through these,” you started peeking through the garment bags. Gabe hoped that he would have the patience to put up with whatever you were about to throw at him. Whatever you picked out would probably be terrible, and he would hate to have to tell you no.

“Found one!” you pulled out a much longer jacket, all black with silver needlework over the collar and shoulders. It actually didn’t look that bad.

“I’ll give that one a try,” Gabe threw the too-tight pieces at the stylist and pulled on the jacket.

It looked… really good. It was looser fitting, and went down to his knees, but it somehow still looked very imposing and proper. You really did have good taste.

The stylist looked impressed. Clearly they wanted Gabe in something more revealing, but even they couldn’t deny how well the jacket worked.

“That’s the one,” you said. “You have to pick that one.” 

“I agree,” Gabe grinned and adjusted the collar. “You did good.”

You shrugged and began gathering your things, rattling off instructions for the stylist as far as sizing and delivery and whatever other nonsense it took to look this good. Gabe reluctantly returned the jacket, moving to wait for you by the door.

“Um, Miss?” the stylist asked. “The tiara.”

You looked around quizzically. “Oh, OH,” You snatched the offending accessory from your head and thrust it at the stylist. “I can’t believe I forgot I was wearing it.” You shook your head.

Gabe couldn’t help himself. “It must have felt too natural. It certainly looked like it belonged.”

You whirled on him, anger flaring in your eyes before dissipating just as quickly. “I cannot believe you,” you hissed.

Gabe was already walking towards the elevator.

* * *

“Thank you,” Gabe said. Traffic in the city was slow, and you were on your phone in the passenger’s seat.

“For what?”

“For putting me down as your guest for next week. How did you know I would like it?” He wasn’t looking at you, eyes dead ahead on the road.

“I mean, you just always seemed to like fashion shows and art exhibits. You always pay attention during my fittings, and I see you looking through the catalogs when you’re bored. It didn’t seem fair to make you wait off to the side when you would rather actually watch. Besides, you’re old and it would probably be better for you to sit down.” You skipped a song on your playlist and watched the city crawl by at a rush hour pace.

“Hm,” was your only reply from Gabe.

He spoke up again a few minutes later. “The jacket you picked out was really nice.”

You grinned and shrugged, “What can I say? I have good taste.”

“I thought the stylist was going to eat me alive,” Gabe grinned. “They kept trying to feel me up.”

“I noticed. I was about ready to kick their ass, but it wouldn’t be worth it to find someone new at this point.”

Gabe didn’t say anything.

“What are our plans for tomorrow?” you asked. You didn’t think you had anything planned, which was slightly unusual, but maybe Gabe would remember if you had forgotten.

“I’m off tomorrow.” Oh, right. Gabe got a day off every two weeks -- he could have taken more, he just chose not to. You weren’t sure what he did, especially since you were currently living pretty far from his hometown, but you didn’t blame him for taking a break.

“Yay, Sophie,” you said. Another one of your father’s security personnel. You liked Sophie. She wasn’t as cool as Gabe, but she did let you have a little more fun. Less paranoid, you guessed.

You passed by a cascade of bright lights that overtook the evening glow. There was a fair in town apparently. The smell of fried food wafted through the car and your mouth watered. “I’m gonna go ahead and order dinner, what do you want?”

Gabe picked out his food and you watched the Ferris wheel disappear in the rearview mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> [Here are the reference pics I used for the clothes they try on!](https://clareguilty.tumblr.com/post/188095993250/these-are-my-reference-photos-i-used-for-chapter-2)
> 
> Feel free to chat with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Clare_Guilty)
> 
> I decorated my blog for Halloween! Come check out Kinktober on my [Tumblr](https://clareguilty.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated <3
> 
> Get updates and extras on my [Tumblr](https://clareguilty.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Or come laugh at my memes on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/Clare_Guilty)
> 
> Also I'm very proud of the [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6BJOnKFHtInlTBWLbfmCl8?si=K1mO9meySoi9iZmZ6NXI7w) for this fic!


End file.
